


The Rose Knight

by evewithanapple



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-05-31 21:38:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6488317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evewithanapple/pseuds/evewithanapple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[summary]</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rose Knight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sumi/gifts).



When the door opened, Cassandra shot to her feet, clasping her hands together behind her back. At the back of the shop, she heard Olwen snort and mutter something about youthful foolishness. She ignored her.

The woman standing in the doorway was tall enough that her head brushed against the lintel, and the sunlight silhouetted her like a saint's portrait. Cassandra felt her heart skip several beats, and a giddy grin spread across her face. "Hello Liane."

"It's good to see you." Liane stepped through the door, ducking to keep her head from brushing the ceiling. She wasn't wearing her full armour, but she did have her gauntlets on, and her shield tucked underneath her arm. Her face was burnished bright red from the sun, with a sprinkling of freckles across her broad nose and cheeks. Little wisps of hair peeped out from under her cowl, and Cassandra squeezed her hands together to keep from reaching out and smoothing them down. Liane set her gauntlets and shield down on the front table. "I'm here to get more of the protection charm? The last one's almost run out."

"You bought the last one a month ago," Olwen called from the back of the shop. Cassandra winced. "How much are you using? Too much will spoil the wood."

"Liane's fought in almost every tournament this month," Cassandra said quickly, shooting Liane an apologetic smile. "She's got to keep the shield in good order, or it won't work."

Behind them, Olwen harrumphed, but said nothing more.

"This way," Cassandra said to Liane, who followed her to the workbench that sat against the far wall. Cassandra pulled down the box full of protective charms, pulled out a sachet, and began to mix the contents into a jar of salve. Liane stood and watched, smiling slightly; she never seemed to _not_ be smiling. It was hard not to catch the good mood from her, and Cassandra didn't even try. She smiled back. "I'll need the shield?"

"Oh, of course." Liane set her shield down on the workbench and Cassandra pulled it forward, examining it. The device on the front- three intertwined roses, the crest of Liane's liege lord- had dulled slightly since she'd last seen it, the deep reds fading to dusty pinks. Cassandra ran a finger over one of the grooves. "Would you like a brightening charm as well? It'll keep the paint from wearing."

"You're going to empty my purse if you keep this up," Liane joked, but she was already reaching into the pouch at her belt. "How much?"

"Just three pieces," Cassandra said, ignoring Olwen's disapproving grunt behind her. "Since you come here so often."

"Thanks." Liane reached out and dropped the money into Cassandra's hand. Their fingers brushed ever so slightly; it felt like sunlight being shot through her palm. Blushing furiously, Cassandra screwed the cap back onto the salve and pulled a jar of brightening charm from under the workbench, passing them both to Liane. The other women nodded at her still smiling. "The tourney's next week."

"I know." It was impossible _not_ to know; whenever their liege lord hosted a tournament (which he did at least twice a year) there were banners and flags up all over the town reminding people to attend. Cassandra had gone once or twice, but she'd only ever stood in the crowd at the bottom of the stands, never actually bought herself a proper seat. Jousts and swordfights had never been her preferred form of entertainment- but then, for most of her life, they'd been restricted to gruff old men. It was only two years past that the king had permitted women to participate; the fact that Liane had risen so far, so quickly was a testament to her skill and dedication.

"You should come," Liane said. Cassandra felt a warm flush spread up her neck and face. "That is- come and sit in the stands, near the front." She gestured with her shield. "So you can admire your handiwork."

"I'd like to," Cassandra said breathlessly. Behind her, Olwen coughed, and she corrected herself. "Only- I'm not sure I could afford-"

"Oh!" Liane waved a hand. "I forgot to say- you'd be my guest, of course. Guests of the players don't need to pay for their seats; we're allowed to bring whoever we choose."

Cassandra squeezed her hands together under the table. "Then- I would love to."

Liane beamed at her. She beamed back. Behind her, Olwen coughed again; neither woman paid attention. "I'll see you then?"

"Next week," Liane said, and picked up her shield and gauntlets. "I'll look forward to it." She nodded to Cassandra. "Good day to you."

Cassandra watched her go, heart fluttering wildly in her chest. It was only when the front door closed that she allowed herself to sit down, giving her trembling legs a rest. Olwen coughed again, and Cassandra turned to look at her. "What?"

"Tourneys." The old woman shook her head, holding her latest charm up to the light to examine it. "Seems like a waste of time to me. You ought to be attending the theatre or the symposiums. Something enriching."

"Sorcerers have tourneys sometimes," Cassandra pointed out. In her mind, she was already picking out her clothes for next week. "And it's only one afternoon."

"Mmm," was all Olwen said. As with most of Olwen's wordless admonishments, Cassandra chose to ignore her.

* * *

Liane was usually the quickest on her feet at tourney practice, but this afternoon found her distracted. It didn't mean she lost, but there were several moments where her opponents used her inattention to lunge or dive and nearly knocked her off her feet before she raised her sword to defend herself. Ordinarily, everything about the arena- the bright sun shining off her armour, the grit of sand in her boots, the sound of swords crashing and the distant neighs of horses in the stables- kept her mind on the task at hand, but she couldn't quite seem to focus today.

"You're not sick, are you?" her sparring partner asked when they were done. Isolde and Liane nearly always sparred together, and Liane nearly always won, but it hadn't discouraged Isolde yet. She looked at Liane worriedly. "You ought to rest up before next week. If you're sick at the tourney-"

"I'm not sick," Liane said. To be sure, her stomach felt curiously light, but that wasn't sickness; it wasn't a bad feeling at all. "I'm just- thinking about next week, that's all. About the audience."

Isolde clicked her tongue. "Since when do you worry about the audience? You've never even brought a guest."

Liane shrugged, trying to seem casual. "I have this time."

"A-ha." Isolde pounced. "So that's it, is it? You've got yourself someone whose colours you can wear. Who is it? Do I know them? How long have _you_ known them?"

Liane laughed, trying to brush Isolde's barrage of questions away with a wave of her hand. "It's not- she hasn't got colours, she's not noble. I've just asked her to sit in the stands, that's all. She's the one who's been keeping my shield in order."

"Oh, the sorceress!" Isolde looked delighted at this new bit of information. "Well even if she hasn't got colours, you've got to get something from her. It's how these things are done. She'll at least have ribbons in her hair, won't she? All the women do."

Liane shrugged. "I suppose so."

"Good!" Isolde clapped her hands. "Then when you ride in, you've got to go to her first and ask for the ribbon. And you know, you've got to give her something in exchange, some sort of token. Have you thought of anything? What does she like?"

"I don't know!" The light feeling in Liane's stomach was rapidly turning into nausea. "I hadn't thought of any of this. I just wanted her to come."

"Oh, you poor dear." Isolde put an arm around Liane's shoulders and steered her towards the stables. "You've got to consider _some_ things in advance, or the poor girl will think you don't care. I know when I was courting my Edric, I gave him a brooch for his cloak the first time he came to one of my tourneys- it's the symbol of it you've got to consider. And the queen always gives little miniatures of herself to knights who fight in her name- it's a sign of her favour. What does she hold dear, do you know? What means something to her? You ought to pick something meaningful, so she knows you've been paying attention. Or what about something that's significant to the two of you? A shared joke, maybe, or someplace you've taken her before?"

Liane was beginning to feel dizzy. "I haven't taken her anywhere yet. This would be the first-"

"Ahhh," Isolde said, nodding. "So you ought to bring something to commemorate the occasion. They sell souvenirs, of course, but it's all cheap trash- you should get something more expensive, so she knows you planned ahead of time. Can you think of anything?"

Liane looked down. In the bright sunlight, her newly charmed shield almost seemed to glow, the bright red roses stark against the dark polished wood. "I- I think so."

* * *

 

Even after she'd reached her place in the stands- she'd only needed to announce herself as Liane's guest, and one of the servingmen had immediately escorted her to her seat- Cassandra still couldn't help but feel a bit out of place. She'd worn her nicest dress, and woven pink and white ribbons into her hair to match, but everyone else seemed to be much fancier and much more at ease than she was. She was alone, which didn't help; she hadn't exactly _wanted_ Olwen here (the old women had still been grunting in disapproval when she left) but it would have been nice to have someone to talk to while she waited for the tourney to start. Everyone else was engrossed in conversation with the person sitting beside them, but Cassandra didn't know any of these people, and she couldn't think of a thing to say to her seatmates. She didn't even know the names of any of the competitors besides Liane.

When the heralds blew their trumpets, she nearly leapt out of her seat, but gratitude soon settled in; finally, the tourney was beginning. Of course, before any of the challengers entered, the liege lord and his lady had to make a grand entrance into their box and then make a speech welcoming the spectators and the champions, but at least the people around her weren't talking anymore. Cassandra folded her hands in her lap as she listened to the lord's speech: he praised sportsmanship, competition, and loyalty, as usual. Cassandra had never really understood why tourneys seemed to mean so much to lords and ladies- it seemed to be an awful lot of posturing and little else- but the speech made her think of Olwen, how she'd always insisted that sorcery was at least two parts ritual, one part symbolism. Maybe that was why.

At long last, the liege lord took his seat again and gestured for the combatants to enter. Each one was mounted on horseback, and their horses were all decked out in bunting- each one designed to represent the noble households who had sent champions to fight for them. As Cassandra watched, each knight rode out and paused at the stands, exchanging a few words with someone seated in the audience before taking their place at the far end of the arena. As one of them rode by, Cassandra saw a flash of red in their hand- a ribbon, probably tied around their wrist by their paramour. She tugged at her own ribbons, which were dangling from the end of her braid. Would Liane stop for a ribbon from her?

When Liane rode forward, Cassandra felt her heart leap. Even dressed fully in her armour, helmet and all, it was impossible for Cassandra not to recognize her- the set of her shoulders was just too familiar, too (did she dare think it?) beloved. She held her breath as the horse and rider drew closer, clutching her ribbon between sweat-dampened fingers.

Liane stopped in front of her and Cassandra rose automatically to her feet. Liane raised her visor, unveiling her bright blue eyes. Her gaze locked on Cassandra's, and Cassandra found that she could hardly make herself move. 

"My lady," Liane said. Perhaps it was only the dull roar of the crowds in the background, but Liane's voice sounded somehow deeper than usual. "Would you honour me with a token to carry into battle, that I may fight in your name?"

Cassandra's fingers were shaking, but she only needed to give her ribbon a small tug to free it from her braid. Liane held her wrist out, and Cassandra carefully looped the ribbon around her wristguard, knotting it twice over to ensure that it wouldn't come loose. She wished she'd thought to put a charm on it before she came- but then again, that might have been seen as cheating. Better that this spell remain all symbolism and ritual, with no concrete magic involved.

When she finished tying the knot and released the ribbon, she expected Liane to ride away. She didn't. Instead, she turned her arm over and uncurled her fingers, revealing a small bronze object gleaming in her palm. "A token for a token," she said. "My arms for your colours." She extended her hand, and Cassandra realized with a start that she was meant to take the object herself.

She picked it up and turned it over in her hands. It was a brooch- a cloak pin- worked in bronze with three roses surrounded by a circle. Liane's crest. She'd given Cassandra her crest. And it had to be brand new, because her liege lord didn't live within the boundaries of the city- she wouldn't have had time to ride back to his castle, fetch the brooch, and then ride back for the tourney. She'd had this made specially for Cassandra. As the brooch rested in the palm of her hand, it seemed to glow with a magical warmth.

"Thank you," she said, because she knew she had to say something and she didn't trust herself to come up with a fine declaration on the spot. Liane's face tinted pink at her words, and she ducked her head slightly. "I'm glad you like it."

"I love it," Cassandra said. She closed her fingers over the brooch and reached down to drop it in her pocket- she'd put it on soon, but not before she showed Liane how grateful she was. Standing on her toes so that she could reach over the edge of the stands, she caught Liane's face between her palms and pulled it up so that she could kiss her forehead. Her skin was already speckled lightly with sweat, and it tasted warm and salty on Cassandra's lips. She thought she heard someone whistle. She didn't care.

When she released Liane and rocked back down on her heels, the other woman looked faintly dazed, her face now suffused deep red. Cassandra brought her fingers up to her lips, touching the skin that had just been pressed to Liane's forehead. Liane's horse stepped backwards, as Liane fumbled to hold onto the reins, nodding to Cassandra as she went. "I-" she said, "I am honoured to wear your colours, my lady."

Cassandra reached into her pocket to touch the brooch. "As I am honoured to wear yours."

With a last look, Liane turned the horse around and trotted to her place at the edge of the arena. Cassandra lowered herself back into her seat, unpinning her cloak and replacing the old clasp with the one Liane had just given her. It was a hot day, perhaps too hot to leave the cloak on, but- she thought as she watched Liane's horse paw at the ground while Liane laid a calming hand on its neck- a little more heat was the smallest possible price to pay in exchange for the gifts she'd just been given.


End file.
